Trust is a trembling thing; No glaring champion never overthrown, No cannon grinning out of the catacombed stone, But a young sparrow that with just-tried wing On some steep wall-face fluttering goes to cling; Or a petticoated child not two years old, Who with a simple-simulated wrath Bids some great dog begone out of his path, Betwixt abashed and bold. My pretty fledgling, flit and light unlamed; Can Nature else but love you? Shrilly berate That slow old dog, young darling; it was foretold You should not be ashamed So speaking with your enemies in the gate. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...BY THE SALPETRIERE by THOMAS ASHE DELAY by CHARLOTTE FISKE BATES BEATRICE by CHARLES BAUDELAIRE THE STUBBORN BELIEVER by BERTON BRALEY THE PRISONER by EMILY JANE BRONTE WAR NOTES: 1. 'EXTRAS' by RICHARD EUGENE BURTON |